


Why am I the Rogue?

by Verdic



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: DNDecember
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-18 21:42:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13109079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Verdic/pseuds/Verdic
Summary: This actually happened. My 3.5 Paladin, Rumil, was the rogue of our party, down to talking to people, opening locks, and removing traps. This was the DM's response to him.





	Why am I the Rogue?

“Everyone ok?” Rumil asked as he pulled his blade from the last of the Wights.

“Yeah, we’re fine.” Larkin called down. “Check Moonbrain over there. He tried to trip them up, but I think he is into some weird self bondage thing.” Rumil sighed and walked over to where Moonflower was wrapped in his own whip dagger. 

“I will not stop using this, so don’t even start.” Moonflower glowered.

“Hey, at least the Wights died of laughter.” Rumil helped untangle him and used some healing on his wounded body, though nothing would sooth the elf’s wounded pride. 

“Well, now that everything is settled, should we continue on?” Seraphina asked, leaning on her staff, her brother panting happily beside her. She motioned for Rumil to lead the way. 

“Further into the tomb we go.” He smiled under his veil and pulled out his everburning torch. Leading the way, they came to a T intersection.

“Good adventurers always go left.” Larkin called out. Rumil nodded and turned left. After a short walk, they came to an alcove. In it there was a smashed open chest, coins spilling out of it. Rumil held his shield out, causing a ringing as Larkin and Moonflower ran into it. 

“Let me make sure it’s safe first, please.” If Rumil’s hands had been free, he would have buried his face in his hands. Rumil walked forwards and placed his torch and shield down. Taking some tools out, he checked the area around the chest, and then the moldering chest itself. He put his tools away and gathered his arms. “It’s safe. Have at it.” Larkin and Moonflower fell on the chest, counting and gathering their spoils. 

Rumil decided to check the room further. It was barely wider than the hallway, but stretched into the darkness. Walking forwards, Rumil paused as he saw something that was not right. There was another chest. This one was on a shelf carved into the wall. Rumil slowly edged forwards, looking for all the traps he knew people normally planted on their valuables. He heaved a sigh of relief when he found two of them. If there were none, he would have started worrying. 

Once he had the traps taken care of, he stowed his thieves tools. His current companions constantly made fun of him for them. What kind of paladin needs thieves tools? The kind that is too stupid to travel with a locksmith, he would joke back. He held his shield in front of him, just in case there was a trap he missed. As he touched the chest, he realized there was one thing he hadn’t thought of. A huge mouth formed, with large teeth gnashing at him.

It was a mimic, and he was too close. It immediately jumped onto him, encasing the upper half of his body. Rumil felt the pressure start crushing him and the acid start to burn him. Knowing there was a wall in front of him, he angled his bashing shield and slammed the two of them against the wall, activating the shield’s magic. 

When they heard Rumil scream in surprise, the rest of the party came running. They came upon him with the mimic over half of his body, and he was ramming himself against the wall. Laughing, Akmun raised his sword and sliced what was left of the Mimic in half, the cacophonous blow from the thundering enchantment throwing bits and pieces of the mimic everywhere.

“Why am I the one who always has to check the chests?” Rumil asked, lying still to let his sizzling flesh rest.

“Because you’re our idiot who decided he didn’t trust any ‘locksmith’ other than himself.” Larkin said, sitting on his chest, polishing a wand she had plundered from the last chest.

“And whose fault is it that you fell for a mimic? There was an actual, moldering chest right back there. This one looked like a new chest.” Seraphina added. “You were kind of asking for it.”

“I have an idea for a mimic.” Rumil groaned from the ground. “How about you all mimic statues and I just rest, ok?”

“Ok. but only if you tell me every vow you’ve taken.” Larkin said, smiling as she tapped the wand on Rumil’s nose. Rumil just groaned and let his head fall back.


End file.
